


Granger, H: Gifted

by SilverMyfanwy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Australia, Bullying, Dementors, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts First Year, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Letters, Hogwarts Second Year, Hogwarts Third Year, Muggles, Obliviation, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Poker, Quidditch World Cup, School, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMyfanwy/pseuds/SilverMyfanwy
Summary: “She’s gifted.” the pre-school teacher told Mr and Mrs Granger after her first term there. “Your daughter is truly, truly gifted, although-” she hesitated.“What is it?” Mrs Granger asked anxiously.“Well,” the woman frowned, “odd things always seem to be happening around Hermione."





	Granger, H: Gifted

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by [this. ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ea/3d/08/ea3d08f9aabfcdbd86b3fbf684536038.jpg)Enjoy!  
> Apologies for any spelling/punctuation/grammar mistakes.

ACT ONE

Hermione had been a perfectly normal baby, apart from her large amount of hair.

As a toddler, she had been transfixed by books and learning; something that was to stay with her for the rest of her life, and had a much more advanced vocabulary than other children her age.

“She’s gifted.” The pre-school teacher told Mr and Mrs Granger after her first term there. “Your daughter is truly, truly gifted, although-” she hesitated.

“What is it?” Mrs Granger asked anxiously.

“Well,” the woman frowned, “odd things always seem to be happening around Hermione. She’s very bright, very, very bright, but if something strange happens, she is always there. If something falls off a high shelf or something falls over or one of the other children gets a strange injury, she will always be there.”

“You don’t think she cause them, the things, to happen, do you?” Mr Granger asked.

“I don’t think so.”

-

Hermione was six when she first read Matilda. It took her one hour. Then, as most small children do after first reading the book, she tried to make things move using her eyes and an awful lot of willpower.

Unlike most children, the book she was staring at actually move, floating off her bedroom bookshelves towards her bed. They landed on her duvet with a soft thump.

Hermione couldn’t have been more thrilled.

-

She loved school. She was probably the only child in her area who did. The area was rough and poverty was high, with the children at the primary school more likely to have not done their homework because the electric bill couldn’t be paid and the lights went off than because they were last or were to busy jet-skiing around the Caribbean to do their fractions into decimals into percentages. The local children would far rather be kicking a football or sitting on the kitchen floor with a big pile of comics or a doll dressed up in pink or blue scraps snatched from the rag basket.

Hermione had devoured every book in the school library by the time she reached Year 5. It was at this point that she started becoming rather restless and it became crystal clear that she wasn’t quite normal. One day, when she was getting picked on at school for having big hair. Ne of the bullies ended up with jelly in his hair. No one knew how the jelly got there, but Hermione was blamed and put in detention and a hunger for justice awoke in her.

Soon it was time for secondary school and she was the only child not looking forward to a new stomping ground. The bullying got worse, the teachers were wary of her and unexplainable things kept on happening. She didn’t know what she was but she did know that she wasn’t normal and at times she wondered if she wasn’t even human.

Meanwhile, as she worried in the silence of her room, hiding away with books and fictional worlds and knowledge and newspapers her parents were also worrying.

They took her to doctors and child psychologists, behavioural therapists and experts in child behaviour patterns. Without Hermione with them, and without telling her, they went to psychics and herbalists and people claiming to be ‘gifted’ to see if they might know what was going on or have a cure. They tried changing their diets, redecorating the rooms, going to the countryside for proper fresh air every weekend.

None of it worked and it _broke their hearts_ to see Hermione upset, to see her unhappy and confused and angry and scared.

Then, halfway through August, when they were considering not sending her to secondary school at all, a letter came, addressed to Hermione.

“I’m a witch?” Hermione gazed at the letter and the envelope, which were spread out on the dining table.

Mr and Mrs Granger hadn’t known what to say, or do, or think. Mrs Granger opened her mouth to say something about how it was probably a scam of some sort, but stopped when she saw the light in Hermione’s eyes and the colour flooding into her cheeks.

There was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it.” Mr Granger got up and then came back with an old man wearing half-moon spectacles and a bright red suit with a very long beard and very long grey hair.

“Hello.” the man said, smiling warmly at Hermione. “I’m Professor Dumbledore, I’m the headteacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, are you Hermione Granger?”

Hermione nodded. “Are you here about the letter we just got?”

“I most definitely am. Have you read all of it?”

Hermione nodded. “Would you like to sit down?” she pulled out a chair and smiled.

“Thank you very much. And did this letter come as a surprise to you? Had you heard of Hogwarts before?”

Hermione shook her head. “Never. So, is this why I can make strange things happen? Are you going to teach me about it? Am I a witch?”

“You are a witch.” Dumbledore smiled. “And will you be attending Hogwarts come September?”

Hermione nodded eagerly.

INTERVAL

“Oh where are they?” Hermione scowled and tapped her foot impatiently. “I didn’t see them anywhere on the platform, did you?”

Ginny shook her head. “I hadn’t seen them on the train, either.”

“Come on, let’s go and find Fred and George. I bet Ron and Harry will be with them. Or buying everything from the trolley lady’s cart again.” Hermione got up from her seat, Ginny following after her into the corridor.

They soon bumped into Neville, whose nose needed setting. Hermione quickly fixed him up and he promised to tell Harry and Ron they were being looked for if he saw them.

“They’re not there!” Ginny said when they spotted Fred and George, with no Harry or Ron.

Hermione purse her lips and went into the compartment, which was full of fourth-year Gryffindors. “Is that Poker?”

Fred nodded, beaming. “D’you want to play? Promise not to tell Mum, Ginny.”

“Have you seen Ron or Harry? We can’t find them anywhere.” Hermione said.

“No. Now are you playing or not?” George asked.

“No. It’s gambling and I really ought to be getting a prefect.” Hermione frowned down at them. “Come on Ginny.”

They searched all over the train but didn’t find either of them.

“They must have missed the train.” Ginny said.

Hermione nodded and pulled a textbook out of her bag to finish reading it. “Your parents will Floo them to Hogwarts. It’ll be fine.”

Neither of them saw the blue car flying past outside.

ACT TWO

Hermione’s teenage years were hard for her parents.

She was so much happier after having started at Hogwarts and seemed to have made truly brilliant friends in a gangling ginger boy called Ron Weasley and a boy with a lighting shaped scar on his forehead called Harry Potter, who seemed to be something of a celebrity in the Wizarding World. After her first year, Hermione returned with the thrilling tales of a three-headed dog and a sport called Quidditch, along with a list of her end of year exam scores. She was top of her year.

Mr and Mrs Granger couldn’t have been prouder. She was happy, healthy and thriving.

Then came second year and a knock on the door in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. It was Professor Dumbledore, looking rather more serious than when they had first met him.

“Hermione’s been Petrified.”

And suddenly Hogwarts was far more terrifying, dangerous place to them, that felt half the world away.

It was bad enough that she’d spent nearly two months as part-cat, something that never fully got explained to them, but for her to be unconscious and frozen stiff?

They spent the summer before third year in France, then went up to Diagon Alley to but supplies. They’d planned to stay with her until she went back to school but they were busy with work and she was more than happy to stay at the Leaky cauldron with the Weasleys.

There were letters of creatures called Dementors and what seemed like a hundred different subjects that year. She fell out with Ron because of Crookshanks but then they made friends again and a hippogriff got sentenced to death but it was all okay in the end. Third year worried the Grangers a lot less.

Fourth year she went off to the final of the Quidditch world cup with Harry and the Weasleys and they nearly died at the hands of extremist wizarding terrorists. Harry got roped into a death-trap of a competition and there seemed to be some sort of problem with a ball.

The summer after, she was only at home for a few days before Dumbledore showed up and whisked her away to the ‘Order’. Mr and Mrs Granger received no explanation as to what it was or what she did there. Strange- little, but strange and unexplainable- things started to happen in both worlds. The letters began, then stopped. They didn’t see Hermione until Christmas for a fleeting visit, where she seemed distant and didn’t mention school. They told each other it was exam stress.

Hermione was never the same after that year.

She only spoke once or twice that summer. Well, that was what it felt like to her parents, anyway.

They heard her crying in her room on several occasions but never confronted her on it.

The next year seemed to go better, though she was heartbroken over the death of Dumbledore.

One of the next things they knew was moving to Australia, where if someone had asked them about a girl called Hermione, their daughter, they would have been rather confused.

“We don’t have a daughter.”

-

One day, a young woman with thick brown hair knocked on the door and asked to come in. She sat on their sofa, pulled out a polished stick, gave it a waved and then broke down in tears.

It wasn’t long before they were in tears too.

-

They returned to Britain and started a new life, in a new town. They finally properly met Harry Potter, the boy who caused their daughter to remove herself from their memories. Then they met Ron Weasley, the boy who their daughter was in love with.

Hermione didn’t spend much time with them. In no time at all, she was building herself a career in the magical government.

But she was happy.

And even if they couldn’t brag to their neighbours about her illustrious career like all middle-aged, middle-class people do, or watch her go to university, or understand half of the strange food at her wedding, as long as she was happy, so be it.

THE END.


End file.
